


Magnets

by felicityfish



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, M/M, Oblivious Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 20:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicityfish/pseuds/felicityfish
Summary: "Enjolras was so focused on his argument with Grantaire that he followed him eight blocks west of campus to R’s office building and right into the elevator." And then the elevator stopped.





	Magnets

Enjolras was so focused on his argument with Grantaire that he followed him eight blocks west of campus to R’s office building and right into the elevator. “—And if you would just once come to a protest when I asked you to, you’d see how fired up everyone is. Their lives are being—”

“Can you press six, please?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras stabbed the button for the sixth floor and continued: “—torn apart by these new immigration policies, which, by the way, are completely unconstitutional, not that anyone cares about that. If we can get their stories out—real human stories of our friends and neighbors and the people who make us breakfast and drive our Lyfts and even children, for fuck’s sake—we can get people to care, and call their reps, and even show up for mid-terms. But no one’s going to listen if we can’t even get our members—”

“I never claimed to be a member!”

“—to show up to rallies!” The elevator halted dramatically at this as if to emphasize Enjolras’ point, but the doors didn’t open.

There was an odd moment of silence before Enjolras asked in the most tentative voice R had yet to hear come out of his mouth, “Um, is this your floor?”

“Yes, Apollo. I work here, on floor 4.5. To get to work, I swipe half a metro card and run through the barrier at platform nine and three quarters.” Grantaire pushed the door open triangles a few times and then pried open the emergency flap. He turned the key, small enough to open a child’s diary or jewelry box, in the red lock until it buzzed.

“It’s just I’m meant to be teaching a recitation in fifteen minutes, not stuck in an elevator.”

“Perhaps,” Grantaire suggested, “next time you’ll proceed directly to your own place of employment, rather than stalking me to mine to lecture me on my protest attendance record. Just give me a detention or dock points from Hufflepuff or make me do an extra credit project and be done with it.”

“I’m sending an angry letter to your parents.”

R almost laughed. “We’ll see if they’re any more responsive to you than they are to me.” Enjolras grabbed his wrist to steal the time and then groaned. It was analog, the deciphering of which, Enjolras argued, wasted precious seconds of someone who was already worried about not having enough time. The first time this had happened, Grantaire had been too thrown by the cold fingers pressed against his pulse point to laugh at Enjolras’ inability to tell time. By now, R knew to cover his physical response with a quick remark. “You should text whoever might be in Acres right now. See if anyone can cover your class.”

Enjolras crinkled his nose, thrusting out his upper lip. “Have you sat in on Jehan’s workshops?”

R nodded. “They’re fascinating.”

“Fascinating in a way that might translate well to political theory?”

“They have a history minor,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “And I know your slides are detailed. Couldn’t hurt to ask right?” Enjolras rubbed his eyes and typed up the text. His phone dinged in affirmation only seconds later. R could see the all caps and blocks of exclamation points from across the elevator. “Please get someone to tape it,” he begged.

“Hey, did you mean that?”

“One hundred percent. Jehan trying to convert all your ignorant students? I mean, I’ve seen their essays.”

“Not that. Did you mean it that you don’t consider yourself a part of the ABC?”

Grantaire pulled his hood over his head.

“R. Come on. I know you can’t stand me—” R smiled at that, a God-Enjolras-the-things-you don’t-understand kind of smile, “but you have to believe in what we’re doing. After everything you’ve been through. Everything we’ve...”

Grantaire shook his head, eyes downcast. “It’s useless.”

Enjolras felt his throat swell. “You can’t mean that.

“How many rallies did you hold over the summer? How many voters did you register? How many mornings did you see from the wrong side because you were writing letters to editors and organizing phone banks? And who’s our rep? Who’s our new senator? God, look at our president. Ignorant old white guys who care nothing for their constituents. Frauds, all of them."

Grantaire’s voice cracked as he went on. “Your clothes are too big, Enjolras. I’m scared to bump into you because all that’s left is anger and bones. And for what? They slashed taxes for Jeff Bezos, and they deported my doctor. Your speeches are lovely, and the crowds scream for you, and it’s all useless.”

“You wouldn’t know a damn thing about the crowds since you sleep through every rally.”

Grantaire pushed the door open button desperately. “Fourteen,” he said like he was trying not to.

“What?”

“I’ve been to fourteen of your rallies since I met you. I had to miss two for work. I’ve attended sixty-seven ABC meetings and designed thirty-two fliers.”

“Why bother, if you don’t believe in anything?” Enjolras asked, seething.

The elevator lurched up suddenly, slamming Grantaire’s head against the wall. Enjolras watched R’s fingers drag through his hair, rubbing over the point of impact.

The doors slid open as if nothing had ever been wrong and Grantaire stepped dizzily into the hallway. “I believe in you,” he said to Enjolras simply.

Enjolras stood dumbstruck, long after the doors closed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, friends! I promise to write something with actual kissing someday soon. 
> 
> Please let me know if you catch any mistakes.


End file.
